


Star Gazing

by philophrosynae



Series: saketini [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 04:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philophrosynae/pseuds/philophrosynae
Summary: Alfred loses something.





	Star Gazing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I am in the process of revising some of my old work. As I find my favorites and get them up to my new standards, I'll post the re-written versions under my new pen name. The old ones are long deleted. So if you've been around before and say, "hey, this sounds like something saketini wrote..." It is! Just rewritten, revised, and re-loved. I don't plan on rewriting everything, some of it was garbage, but I think the ones I haven't forgotten over the years deserve a little more of my attention!

It started off with things the optometrist called "floaters." Odd little bubbles, little flecks, little specks that danced around the corners of his vision. Taunting him.

“Everyone has a few from time to time, but you're going to see more than others.”

The doctor’s tone had been patient and kind, a bedside manner perfected after years of delivering upsetting news. Alfred appreciated it. His own voice flatlined into a numb monotone as he accepted that there was nothing anyone could do.

The so-called floaters were the reason he had gone to the doctor in the first place. That and the odd headaches that had bothered him throughout the day. While his vision had never been the best, he had rarely needed more than an annual check up to change his prescription. Ivan had driven him to the appointment and he was thankful for the hand holding onto his as he heard the diagnosis.

It really was an odd thing, being told you would have your vision for only a few more months at best. He had stared blankly at the optometrist's face as words like  _infection_  and  _predisposition_ were dropped into the air. Ivan's questions about possible treatment were all shot down one by one until they were left realizing that modern medicine wasn't really as magical as they had been led to believe.

Then came the warnings of lightning, flashes of light, and streaks of red. That was the sign that he needed to get to the clinic immediately. Warnings of  _retinal tears_  and  _detachments_  that made his stomach roll. Until then, things would simply get blurrier, softer around the edges until they finally faded away.

Alfred hadn't cried until he got home, burrowing under the comforting blankets of their bed until Ivan pulled him out with promises that everything would be alright. Through his tears he stared at stains on the old quilt he had brought with him when he moved in. The spots told a story, from the pizza nights to the chicken noodle soups in bed that he had enjoyed over the years. He wondered how long it would be until he forgot what they looked like.

He wanted to lock himself in the bedroom and pretend he hadn't heard what the doctor had said. Pretend that if he wished hard enough, it would simply go away. He was angry that something he had taken for granted was being taken away with so little notice. He was afraid that he'd lose his job because he would be too difficult to keep on payroll, or become too much of a burden on the boyfriend whose house he had just moved into.

"We could try another doctor," Ivan said.

And they did. Twice. Three times. But the answer was always the same:

“There's no solution and nothing you could have done. Just bad genetic luck. I would recommend therapy to cope with the changes you'll be going through.”

Ivan had always been better at accepting these things. The same hand that had held onto Alfred's during the appointments tugged him along through all of his new lessons. In true Alfred fashion, there was a fair amount of kicking and screaming and shouting, but eventually he gave in.

And eventually the clock on their nightstand and the phone in his hand and the view of the mountains out the window all really did fade away.

He found he noticed things differently. Sounds were a little louder, a little sharper, and he realized he could gauge where people were and what they were doing based on the noises alone. The people in his life all had a unique music, from the way their clothes rustled and their footsteps clicked across tiles.

"What do I sound like?"

"Warm. Patient. Home."

It became a new game to describe things in rooms as he felt them and listen to Ivan's whispered descriptions of their colors in his ear. After a while he was more comfortable navigating new places alone, using senses he had never appreciated to relearn what he thought he had lost.

It was dark. He knew the time, but he had also noticed the night air felt different on his skin than the day's. He and Ivan were sprawled out on an old wool blanket in the backyard. The grass beneath them had been recently cut and smelled sweet along with the closing flowers.

They were stargazing. Ivan's arm outstretched and holding Alfred's left towards the sky as they traced familiar constellations.

Ursa Major, Sagittarius, Scorpius.

Alfred felt a new weight settle on his ring finger as they passed Vega along with a very quiet question.

He said yes, before leaning in to relearn the feel of the other man's lips against his own.

**Author's Note:**

> My beta reader is me, five years later, reading what I wrote and cringing. As such, all typos are still my own.


End file.
